Estranged
by lianpe
Summary: AU - All Human Jace divorced Clary, and, four years later, she's still coming to terms with her marriage disintegrating before her eyes. She meets a childhood friend she hasn't seen for years (AKA Simon), who has also suffered a bad break-up, and together they try to help each other overcome their personal demons. Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Clary stared at the shattered vase on the floor. It had been a beautiful cut-glass vase that she and Jace had got as a marriage present. Now, much like her marriage, it lay on the floor, smashed to smithereens.  
No - she couldn't believe it had come to this. They'd always had problems - every couple had problems. They'd worked through them. They'd fall more in love.  
But there would always be something else. Some other factor that ripped them apart again.  
Clary knew they wouldn't last like that. And they didn't.  
Finally, after the last of many, many fights, Jace had left. Left for good.  
He'd broken her heart and there wasn't a soul she could talk to. Simon and Isabelle had their own marital crisis, Magnus was still mourning Alec's death, and her parents...her parents were gone. Dead.  
Sometimes Clary wished she was dead. Being dead would make you numb - no amount of heartbreak would trouble you, and that constant ache inside would disappear.  
Yes, Clary wanted to die - to escape it all, but she didn't have the guts to.  
Despite it all, she still believed that there was a chance, however slim, that things could get better.

Clary was at the supermarket, staring down at the brightly-coloured items on the shelves. Her life was so dull now, that it was a bitter irony to notice how bright little things could be.  
"Clary?"  
"Simon?"  
She couldn't believe it, but there he was. The last time Clary'd seen him, they'd both been in their twenties and happily married to their respective partners.  
He'd aged - not badly, just noticeably. A little grey here and there, a few lines around his eyes and his mouth, but he was still Simon. He was still _there_. It gave Clary a sense of permanency, seeing him.  
"What are you doing here? I thought you were in England."  
"I moved." Simon's voice was hoarse - the only clue that linked him to his old smoking habit. He didn't smell of cigarettes anymore, so he must've given them up.  
"You aren't with the band anymore?" Clary didn't want to sound interrogative, but she was curious.  
"I had to leave." His voice held a wistful tone. "It was bringing me down. It ruined my marriage." His dark eyes drifted towards his left hand, where a thin tan-line was all that suggested that there had once been a wedding ring there.  
"I see you've moved on." Simon gestured around him. "You didn't set foot outside the house after Jace...left." He ended on an embarrassed note, as if he was ashamed to bring it up.  
"I couldn't stay there forever." Clary tried for lightness. "Maryse had enough to contend with. Plus, we were all worried about you. We didn't think you were going to pull through." She paused, her eyes on the chipped tile floor. "You nearly died, Simon."  
"I know." Simon's hands twitched on his trolley. "I put Isabelle through hell, and no amount of apologies could ever make up for it. It was almost a relief when she left. I knew she hated me - I just couldn't bear waking up to it every morning." He looked at Clary sadly. "I still love her."  
"She still loves you."  
"Excuse me," A fat, rather grandmotherly lady glared at the pair, "But how do you think anyone can pass you when you stand in the aisle like that?"  
"Sorry, sorry." Clary muttered, vaguely annoyed. There was actually plenty of room, but there was no pleasing some people.  
"I don't know about you, but I could use some coffee." Simon was directly behind her in the checkout line. "You wanna join me?"  
"Sure." Clary jumped at the offer, not so much as a chance to reconnect with an old friend, but because she had next to nothing to do at home and she was tired of constantly being alone.  
"I know people say Starbucks is the best, but there's this quaint little café a couple of blocks away that serves some amazing cappuccinos."  
"We'll try that, then" Clary envied the fact that Simon had had the guts to experiment with new places after his life practically collapsed in on him. It made her seem almost pathetic for not doing anything after Jace left. She was an ideal pathetic, heartbroken ex-wife.  
They took Simon's banged-up Chevy, as Clary'd taken the bus to go shopping, plus she didn't have a car of her own.  
It _was_ as quaint as Simon made it out to be, and the cappuccinos were fairly good. If Clary'd still been able to paint, she'd have loved to sketch the café - from its creaking wooden floors to its exotic upholstery to its cheaply-dressed, over-animed customers.  
"Earth to Clary, I asked you a question." Simon peered at her over his cup of coffee.  
"Oh, I'm sorry, I must've spaced out. I do that, if I've forgotten to do something, and I don't think I bought any tinned tuna." Easy - lying was easy after living with Jace Herondale for over ten years.  
Simon's brows went up. "I hate tuna. Haven't eaten any for six years or so."  
_Ever since Isabelle left you_. It was on the tip of Clary's tongue, but of course she couldn't say it. Instead, she changed the topic, "I suppose one does get sick of tuna. By the way, I've got this wonderful recipe for spaghetti I got from an Italian website."  
They engaged in small-talk for well over an hour - subjects spanning from local news to politics to television programmes to good books, but never once returning to the subject of either Jace or Isabelle. Those were taboo, if the pair were to have a light conversation.  
"Is it five already?" Simon sighed, looking at his watch. "I'm sorry, Clary, I've got to run and collect some stuff from the laundromat before it closes. Umm...I could drop you along the way, if you want." A level of awkwardness was letting itself be known in his manner.  
"No - that's no problem." Clary wasn't going to force her company on him. "I've got a couple of errands to run myself. It was nice seeing you after so long, Simon. We have to do this again sometime."  
"Yes, we do." He sounded sincere enough. "You're...good to talk to, Clary."


	2. Chapter 2

Their second meeting was not quite so awkward as the first, but was, in no way, a sign that they were back on their old, familiar footing.  
Simon had a tendency to be somewhat moody - as if a greater part of him wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else. Clary suspected that he had never really wanted to give up music, other factors had simply forced his hand.  
Up close, she could see how the drugs and alcohol had taken their toll on his body, from the weariness with which he spoke, to the dark shadows under his eyes that never really went away. He was, quite simply, a mess.  
Like Clary. They were both a mess - life had seen fit to dump them unceremoniously on their knees with no clue as how to go about normally. They had to fake it, fake the cheeriness, fake the smiles, fake the appearance of lightness. They had to ignore the fact that life had screwed them well and truly.

Clary remembered the last few months before Jace left. He'd been angry almost continously. They'd fight, then have rough sex, then sleep on it, and in the morning he'd be gone.  
She'd sometimes suspected that he might have had another woman somewhere. After all, Jace Herondale always had a reputation for being a ladies' man.  
It had driven her nearly to madness, so much so that one morning, she'd purposely woken up just as he was leaving so she could follow him and see what he was up to.  
Clary'd been bitterly disappointed to lose him, while in the process of shadowing him.  
It had only been the thought of him holding her and kissing her while she slept that kept Clary sane. It'd only been a sliver of the relationship she'd originally had, but she cherished it more than the cold loneliness that arrived after the divorce.  
The cold loneliness that had arrived to stay, unless Clary could figure out a way to drive it out of her life, which she had neither the energy nor the peace of mind to do.

Clary continued meeting Simon at the café. It became a weekly occurrence - something they could look forward to.  
It was at one of these outings that he commented, "There's a nice movie they're showing at the cinema this week."  
"Really? It's not _Transformers_, is it? They're still going strong, you know, those movies."  
"No, it isn't _Transformers_." Simon warmed his hands with his coffee cup. "It's some silly old movie from ages ago - _The Other Woman_. Cameron Diaz, and I can't remember the other women's names." He took a sip of coffee. "I was thinking, we might go see it. You don't get out much and neither do I. It'll do us a world of good."  
Clary's face eased into a smile. "I remember us watching that as kids. Yes, I guess it'll be nice to go and see it again."  
Simon's gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds before drifting away.  
"What?" Clary asked, a bit self-conscious. "Do I have foam on my face or something? It wouldn't be the first time, if so."  
"No." Simon had a half-smile on his face. "Your face is fine."

Her relationship with Jace had pretty much always been turbulent. In the beginning it had been raw and passionate - he'd loved her the way he made love to her. Then, something happened, the spark died out and it dulled to ashes that could be icy cold one minute and burning hot the other.  
Clary couldn't understand how his personality could switch so completely in a matter of minutes. She'd taken years to study his character, but his character had suddenly changed into something fluid and impermanent that she couldn't read, couldn't figure out, no matter how hard she tried.  
And she did try. She tried very, very hard to make it work, but in the end it all came crashing down.  
The raw pain had subsided, but there was still a dull ache now and then. That sort of wound was inescapable when emotions ran so deep.  
Clary'd hoped against hope that she'd meet a new Mr. Right, someone to sweep her off her feet and make her forget all about Jace, but that all fizzled out as the years dragged on.  
Her only hope now was Simon - a good friend she could use to bind her wounds. In turn she'd bind his wounds, or at least she'd try.  
She knew he was longing for the brief escape that drugs would give him, but he had had a long-term battle with them that nearly cost him his life. It would be foolish to throw away the little blessings that life had given him.  
Clary sometimes envied him. He'd understood every aspect of his relationship with Isabelle, even if he couldn't stop himself hurting her as he drowned his sorrows in bottle after bottle of alcohol.  
Clary'd never had that with Jace. Their relationship had been as confusing as it had been turbulent. She still had no clue as to what the real reason for their divorce was, which was a pathetic thing to say.  
Oh, well - life makes pathetic fools out of everyone.

"I loved the way she put that stuff in his drink." Clary grinned all over her face.  
She'd gone to the cinema with Simon, and they'd had an unexpectedly good time. The movie had had the right tone of lightness that their dinner at a lovely restaurant was accentuating.  
"He deserved it." Simon returned, nearly dropping his fork. "He behaved like an absolute prick. I'm surprised none of the women decided to shoot him in his particulars. He would've deserved it."  
Clary giggled. The combination of good food, good company and good mood was getting to her. It was impossible for her _not_ to enjoy herself.  
"I'd invite you over to my place for a nightcap, but it's an absolute mess." Simon confided, after dinner. "Unless, of course, you don't mind the mess." He ended on a hopeful note.  
"I don't." Clary replied, a little too quickly. "I'm quite used to it at my flat."  
Simon smiled. "Come on, then."

"This is nice."  
It was a relatively small house with a tiny strip of garden - not what you'd expect an ex-rock star to have. Still, it was homely and the decor, though barely there, had a very Simon feel to it.  
"Isn't it?" He smiled. "I was sick and tired of living in crappy, impersonal hotel rooms. This is a great deal simpler, but I can _live_ here."  
Clary "hmmm'd" in reply and wandered over to the French windows that looked out into the small garden.  
"You have plants?"  
Simon smiled at her surprised expression. "Yeah. Gives a me a bit of responsibility, doesn't it? And they aren't just _plants_, that's a rosebush over there."  
"Really?" Clary's nose was right up against the glass.  
"Here, why don't I show you?"  
He unlocked the French windows and opened them, leading Clary out onto the small lawn.  
"There's one rose still there - the rest fell off." He held it up for Clary to see, his eyes excited. In the moonlight they looked more silvery-black than brown, and Clary could see her own face reflected in them.  
"You can have it." Simon plucked it off the bush and handed it to her.  
"Thanks."  
"No problem."  
He had a feverish expression in his eyes as his face inched closer to Clary's, and, to her own surprise, she found herself moving closer to him too.  
They kissed, very briefly, almost as tentative as if it were an experiment.  
"Simon?" Clary lifted her hand to brush his cheek, her heart pounding in her ears, but he moved away.  
"I think it's going to rain." He replied softly. "We'd better go back in."


	3. Chapter 3

They didn't speak of the kiss for months, even though it was the elephant in the room whenever they met up.  
Clary'd got a letter from Jace. It held the usual crap - his half-hearted attempt at lightness. He was working as an executive in a security firm in Italy, getting paid next to nothing. His tone was one of familiarity - but it was absolutely emotionless.  
_How did we come to this?_ It was a question Clary asked herself very often. It wasn't a fault on Clary's or Jace's part alone - it was a problem they'd both contributed to.  
Jace's letter joined the pile from his and Clary's mutual friends that only wrote out of politeness. She'd burn them all when she had time.  
"Clary?" Simon rapped on her front door. "Am I too early?"  
Clary smiled inwardly at the sound of his voice. "No - you're just on time. I, on the other hand, still haven't got this place cleaned up."  
Simon entered the room, humming along to an old track by his band. He really missed the old days - that much Clary could tell.  
"Pasta's in the microwave." Clary informed him, tying her hair up into a messy bun. "You can make yourself useful and lay the table."  
"Sure." He plonked a packet of fruit-and-nut chocolate that they both loved on the table. "Did you hear about Aline?"  
"Who?"  
"Izzy's classmate." He laid out plates for the two of them. "She killed herself yesterday."  
"What?" Clary nearly dropped the bowl of pasta she'd taken out of the microwave. "What do you mean, she killed herself?"  
"She overdosed on her sleeping pills." Simon sounded sad - even though he didn't really know Aline all that well. "Her doctor said she took ten times the required dosage - it was suicide all right."  
Conversations like this made Clary numb. They cheapened her view of killing oneself. If she ever killed herself, would people talk about her as if she were a pathetic, depressed soul? Would it be gossip? Would anyone actually _care_?  
"Why?"  
"Why what?" Simon glanced at her over his plateful of pasta.  
"Why did she kill herself?"  
"Why do people kill themselves, Clary? They've got nothing left to look forward to."  
The very thought made Clary shudder. She had things to look forward to, didn't she? Didn't she?

A few months before the divorce, Jace had left the house for a week, with no word as to where he was going, when he'd be back, or whether he'd be back at all.  
Clary'd been worried sick - she'd barely gotten any rest during that horrible week. Her worry had shown itself as lines on her face and a sprinkling of grey in her hair.  
It'd been awful - the waiting. The praying - the hoping against hope that he hadn't decided to kill himself or leave the country permanently.  
When he'd finally returned, his dead eyes had shown no trace of remorse for what he'd put his wife through. There'd been no apology, but none had been needed. Clary'd just been glad to have him back.

"Clary Herondale - it's been a while!"  
Clary's old teacher, Mr. Starkweather gave her a toothless smile as he passed her in the dairy section of the supermarket.  
"Er...I go by Clary Fray now, Mr. Starkweather."  
He gazed at her in confusion. "Jace isn't-"  
"No, Jace isn't dead." _But he might as well be._  
"Oh." Mr. Starkweather sounded slightly disapproving. "It's like that, is it?" He shook his head. "Well, I wouldn't have thought it of you two. So close, you kids were." He paused, musing over something. "What was it? Another woman? He always was fast, that boy."  
"No, it wasn't another woman. We just...grew apart." Even to her own ears it sounded lame. Was that any good reason to end a marriage? If not, what was?  
Mr. Starkweather didn't stay to chat longer than five minutes after that. He was a good teacher, but that was that. Emotions were pushed out of the door. He didn't connect with his students, but that had never been a problem.  
No - nothing had ever been a problem back then.

"These are some friends of mine." Magnus gestured at the three solemn-looking people seated on his sofa.  
Clary didn't know what had made her reconnect with Magnus, but she was glad she did - for his sake, at least.  
His apartment was strangely devoid of glitter, and even Magnus himself was strangely devoid of his usual spark.  
He introduced Clary to the morose three on the sofa - whose names Clary instantly forgot.  
"It's nice of you to come to our poetry reading, Clary." Magnus tipped her a wan smile. "We've just gotten started on Wordsworth - but if you like, we can go through Chaucer's work. Tessa is a fan." He gestured to one of the morose three.  
"No, Wordsworth is fine."  
"The nature poet." Another one of the morose three gave Clary a half-smile. "You have good taste, my dear. I can't _stand_ that dreadful, modern-"  
"All _right_, Ragnor." Magnus sighed. "Let's just-"  
"Did you know that Aline Penhallow killed herself?" The last member of the morose three piped up. "I think she shot herself. Or stabbed herself. Something silly like that."  
"She died of an overdose." Clary replied, through gritted teeth. "Of sleeping drugs."  
The woman frowned at Clary. "I'm pretty sure she shot herself. Well, she always _was_ a drama queen."  
Clary gritted her teeth again. Was this how people talked of those who chose to take their own life rather than live in this messed-up world? Were people with suicidal tendencies just people who had an unfortunately large flair for drama? Did anyone have a right to say so?  
"She seemed like such a nice woman." Magnus murmured. "So sweet. Such a tragedy. And her daughter had just gotten married." He shook his head slowly.  
Clary felt cold. There always seemed to be two sides to life - the loving, indulgent side, and the harsh, merciless side. She'd seen them both.

"Clary?" Simon was sitting on her sofa, reading the newspaper. "How would you like to get a job?"  
"Excuse me?" That came out sharper than Clary'd wanted it to.  
"Not to sound insulting," Simon added, hastily, "But both of us are out of work, and, I expect, money's scarce for you. I mean, I have my savings from when I was with the band, but I doubt you've got anything."  
Clary shook her head. "Jace hardly left me a cent. I'm practically living on unemployment benefits and trying to do a little on the side."  
Simon looked sympathetic. "I see."  
"Okay, so tell me what this great plan is, for both of us to get jobs." Clary didn't want to be pitied.  
Simon spread the newspaper out in front of her. "There." He pointed at one article.  
"You're suggesting we take up journalism?" She couldn't keep the incredulous tone out of her voice.  
"Why not?" Simon shrugged. "It pays okay, we can both write and it'll keep us on the move. I don't know about you, but I'd hate to stay in one place for ever and ever."  
Clary looked wary. "I'd love to, but don't you need qualifications to become a journalist?"  
Simon smiled. "I've checked - we can get by on the qualifications we have. Thank God we both graduated from high school." He reached out to take her hand in his. "At least, I'm glad I didn't drop school for the band. You're smart enough to get by on no qualifications whatsoever."  
Clary couldn't help smiling back. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"  
"Yes." Simon kissed her forehead softly.

**So that's that until the next chapter! Is this too morbid? Too dramatic? Not dramatic enough? A review would be really great - or even a comment!**


End file.
